


The Right Time

by wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Childhood Friends, Christmas, Drunken Shenanigans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War Bucky Barnes, Sharing a Bed, Stucky Secret Santa 2016, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: “So let me see if I got this right,” Bucky says, gaze focused on Steve. “You want to fake date me.”“No,” Steve shakes his head, and then corrects him, “I want us to pretend to be engaged.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintOfTheSinners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintOfTheSinners/gifts).



> happy holidays, guys!
> 
> this is my stucky secret santa gift to [@stucky-if-ya-nasty](http://stucky-if-ya-nasty.tumblr.com/) :D hope you like it <3

“Oh no.”

Bucky looks down at his phone, eye catching the dozens of new notifications on his screen. He unlocks his phone and opens the Facebook app, stomach dropping.

There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes and his mouth tastes like dirt, but that’s not the worst thing happening right now. Beside him, Steve is asleep and oblivious to the world, mouth open as he snores, a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth.

It’s not an unusual occurrence for him to wake up with Steve by his side. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and sleepovers when they were little turned into them crashing on each other’s beds as they grew older. It’s been known to happen when they’re exhausted or they’ve been drinking; the latter happening more and more often now that they actually work at the same office and often go out on Fridays after their shift is over.

This time, though, things are different.

This time, they fucked up.

Or more precisely, Bucky fucked up.

“Steve,” Bucky shakes Steve roughly with a hand on his shoulder. “Wake the fuck up.”

Steve smacks his lips together and groans, bringing his hands up to his face, the heel of his palms pressed against his eyes. “What the fuck.”

“Steve, we fucked up,” is all Bucky can say, dread curling in his chest and making him numb.

“We really did,” Steve rasps out, scrubbing a hand over his face, wincing when he wipes away at the drool on his cheek. “We shouldn’t have let Thor and Nat talk us into drinking so much.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Bucky says, and a little desperation bleeds into his tone.

Steve notices, sitting up and groaning only a little bit at the motion. “What is it?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just hands Steve the phone, the screen still showing Bucky’s new Facebook post. He watches with dread as Steve expression turns from worried to confused to horrified as understanding dawns.

“Oh, no,” Steve whispers, turning an alarming shade of green.

Because on Bucky’s phone screen, for everyone to see and like, is his a post announcing his engagement to Steve.

 

**

 

Bucky’s mind flashes with barely formed images of his office’s Holiday party as he sits on the bed, wearing only his dark blue pajamas pants with ducks printed all over it, his entire body numb.

He knows he called an Uber with Seve while they waited outside of his apartment, wearing their best and ugliest Christmas sweaters. He remembers the laughter and easy conversation that flowed between them on their way to the party, just the two of them shooting the shit like they’ve been doing since they were kids. And he distinctly remembers saying hi to Natasha, Thor, Sam, and Clint once they got there, all decked in their best holiday wear.

Things start getting suspiciously blurring once Thor hands him a drink, though, and it only gets worse from there.

Bucky racks his mind for memories of last night, anything that will explain how _this_ happened. He doesn’t come up with much, aside from knowing Thor brought with him some fancy type of craft mead and Nat challenged him to a drinking competition.

A recipe for disaster, if Bucky’s being honest.

He should’ve known better, really. Especially considering the last time he let Nat talk him into something he ended up with a House Stark tattoo on his arm.

He has no one but himself to blame for this.

And maybe Steve.

Most definitely Steve.

Since Steve is the one who proposed.

 

**

 

“Why would you—,” Steve chokes, gripping Bucky’s phone in a tight grip and looking like someone hit him in the head with a shovel.

So of course Bucky grabs one of his pillow _and_ hits him Steve across the face with it. As far as Bucky is concerned, Steve deserves it. If only a little bit.

“Why would _you_?” Bucky snaps back, stomach churning.

He knows what kind of answer he wants from Steve. That being that Steve proposed to him because he loves him, because he can’t fathom life without Bucky, because he wants them to be together forever.

That is not true, though. Couldn’t be the farthest thing from it, Bucky thinks. And at the way Steve’s expressions twists, filled with guilt and shame and regret, he knows he’s right.

“I didn’t—,” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off.

He doesn’t want to listen to Steve tell him he’s not wanted.

“Nevermind.” Bucky shakes his head, wincing when the movement makes him hurt. “It’s not important.”

“Buck,” Steve tries again, reaching for him.

Bucky has half a mind to pull away, but as soon as Steve’s hand wraps around his bare wrist he melts. He’s always had a weakness for Steve’s hands, his slender artist fingers and bitten nails, his palms rough and warm and sure on Bucky’s skin.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, biting down on the inside of his cheek when his voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, eyes sad and shoulders slumped.

Bucky nods, just as his heart breaks into a million pieces. He’s sorry, too. He’s sorry everything he’s ever wanted is nothing but a lie, nothing but the consequence of one alcohol fuelled night.

“We need to figure out what to do,” Bucky starts again, and glances down at his phone on Steve’s hand.

Just then the screen lights up and flashes with a picture of his Ma’s face, signaling a call. Steve almost drops the phone, his eyes widening in surprise and sheer terror.

It’s pretty much how Bucky feels inside, but still.

Rude.

“Here.” Steve all but throws Bucky’s phone back at him.

“I’m not answering,” Bucky hisses, dropping the phone on the bed between them.

It vibrates on top of the mattress, Winifred’s face smiling up at them.

“You have to,” Steve argues.

“Why don’t _you_ answer it?” Bucky throws back.

Steve huffs. “You’re her son.”

“Well, you’re her favorite.”

It’s kind of true, to a point.

Steve might not be biologically Winifred’s, but him and Bucky have been living on each other’s pockets since they were kids. It was natural for Steve to come live with them after his own mother passed when they were teenagers, since he was already considered part of the family.

“ _Bucky_.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky replies, just as his phone goes dark again.

They breath a sigh of relief, only to tense once more when the screen flashes with a new voicemail.

Bucky swallows past the lump in his throat and picks up his phone, heart doing somersaults in his chest when he plays the message. Only to instantly reel back as his Ma’s screeching voice comes through the speaker.

“Fuck, Ma,” Bucky curses, dropping his phone back on the bed.

“Oh, boys, I’m just..,” Winifred sniffles, her voice wobbly, and Bucky feels like the worst person on earth. “I’m so _happy_ for you! This is absolutely wonderful! I cried when Becca told me, although you could have at least _called me_ before announcing your engagement to everyone on the Internet, James.” There’s a sigh and a little more sniffling, and then Winifred comes back, “I don’t know why you two didn’t tell us you were together. I love you both, so much. All I want is for you to be happy, and if this is it? I couldn’t ask for anything better. Oh!” Winifred perks up, and Bucky gets a sense that he’s about to hate whatever it is that she’s going to say. “And you did this right around the Holidays! What a _gift_! I can’t wait to celebrate when you two come home for Christmas. And with the whole family! It’s going to be great! Anyway, I’ll talk to you boys soon. Steve, I love you. James, I love you too. And please call me as soon as you can.”

Bucky and Steve stare blankly down at the phone, the silence stretching around between them. This is exactly what Bucky feared when he saw the post. His Ma loves them to heaven and beyond, and hurting her is the last thing Bucky wants to do.

Knowing his engagement with Steve is fake will definitely hurt her.

Fuck, it even hurts Bucky.

“We have to call her back,” Steve says, looking as pale as a sheet.

“What am I even going to say?” Bucky laughs, a bit hysterical. “She thinks we’re engaged. I mean, we’re not even _dating_.”

Not for lack of wanting on Bucky’s part.

He’s been gone on Steve since they graduated college, after each one of them got their own apartment. It was their first time living away from each other since they were teens, and for Bucky, the novelty quickly wore off.

He came to realize that life was bleak without Steve around.

Bucky wanted to come home to Steve every night, and tell him about his day, and hang out together while he made dinner and Steve painted. He wanted them to fall asleep together and wake up together, not because they were too tired or too drunk to go somewhere else, but because they _liked_ being that close. He wanted to kiss Steve and make him laugh and make him moan and show him how much Bucky loves and appreciates him.

Bucky still wants all of that, if he’s being honest. But he’s too chicken to confess his feelings when it could ruin their friendship. He’d rather have Steve like this, as a friend, than not have him at all.

Steve licks his dry lips, and Bucky does his best not to follow the movement with his eyes. “We could be? Dating, I mean.”

“What?” Bucky asks, voice pitched high.

His heart speeds up in his chest, and he knows he’s doing something dumb with his face, like opening and closing his mouth in an imitation of a very unattractive fish. But he can’t help it. Not after what just came out of Steve’s mouth.

Not after Steve just said they _could be dating_.

“Or not?” Steve quickly adds, some of his own panic showing on his face. He looks more uncertain than Bucky’s ever seen him, as well as a little scared, and it stabs him right in the heart.

“Steve—,”

“What I meant was,” Steve says over him, interrupting Bucky before he can say _‘yes of course I want to date you_ ’, “we can pretend to date each other.”

It’s like Bucky entire self comes crashing down hard on the ground. He’s pretty sure, if he was to look down, he’d see the scattered pieces of himself all over his floor.

“Pretend,” Bucky repeats, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

“Yes.” Steve nods, although he doesn’t look very happy. “It seems like the thing to do.”

Bucky blinks, flaggerbast. “The thing to do?”

“She sounded so happy, Buck,” Steve answers, voice so low and eyes downcast. “Like this is everything she wanted for us.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, because Steve is right. This is the happiest he’s seen his Ma in a while, and it breaks him being the one to destroy that happiness.

“So let me see if I got this right,” Bucky says, gaze focused on Steve. “You want to fake date me.”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, and then corrects him, “I want us to pretend to be engaged.”

 

**

 

“We’re going to need rings,” Bucky says, still feeling as if he’s in a daze.

Him and Steve are showered and dressed, now currently nursing their hangovers as they slouch on Bucky’s comfy red couch. Bucky tries to ignore the fact that Steve is wearing one of his sweaters, tight around the shoulders but loose on his waist, despite having half of his clothes in Bucky’s closet.

He can’t really believe he said yes to being Steve’s fake fiancee, but he’s made his bed so now he’s gotta lie in it.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve tells him, scrolling through his phone.

Bucky hasn’t touched his since listening to his Ma’s voicemail. He’s gone as far as turning it off and hiding it under his pillow.

“What’s the damage?” Bucky asks, lips pressed thin.

“What?” Steve asks.

“What is everyone saying?” Bucky tilts his chin in the direction of Steve’s phone. “Because they’ve gotta be saying something.”

“Well…”

Bucky grimaces. “That bad, huh?”

“Actually, no.”

Bucky takes Steve’s phone when Steve hands it to him, brows furrowed. He scrolls through Steve’s texts, mouth drying and heart clenching the more he reads. Because the texts aren’t bad at all. In fact, they’re all congratulatory and sweet.

 

**From: Sam**

_Dude, I cannot believe you guys did it! Congrats, man. To you and Barnes. And you better ask me to be your best man, I’m calling dibs._

 

**From: Natasha**

_What an unforeseen turn of events. Congratulation, boys. I’m very happy for you <3_

 

**From: Thor**

_This is a blessing, my friends! You both shall be very happy in this new chapter of your lives. Congratulations :D_

 

**From: Clint**

_idk how much i had to drink last night but you guys are engaged so i guess thats cool congrats_

 

**From: Becca**

_STEVEN GRANT I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME TELL MY BROTHER I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO HIM AGAIN AND ALSO YOU BECAUSE YOU BOTH DO NOT DESERVE ME GOODBYE FOREVER_

_Also I told mom about this and she cried_

 

There are a few more texts, all following along those lines. Becca’s is the most dramatic one, of course, but everyone seems pretty happy that they’re together and _getting married_.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes out, cheeks heating up despite himself.

“Yeah.”

When Bucky looks up, Steve is staring at him with a fond look on his face, lips curled up in a soft smile. It’s a huge contrast to the pure horror on his expression when Bucky showed him him the Facebook status.

It makes Bucky think that maybe this won’t be so horrible after all.

 

**

 

Things might not be horrible, but they sure are a little awkward.

Steve and Bucky have to navigate an office where everyone thinks they’re an item. Bucky’s lost count of how many times someone’s stopped by his desk to congratulate him, some even going as far as saying they’d been hoping for it to happen.

It all follows along the lines of the texts he saw on Steve’s phone, which matched the ones he got when he decided to check his. Everyone seems ecstatic about them being engaged, almost like they had been expecting it to happen all along.

Bucky knows he’s been pining pretty spectacularly for Steve these past years, but he didn’t think people noticed. At least not anyone aside from Becca and Natasha. And Sam. And maybe Clint and Thor as well.

Okay, so Bucky is more obvious about his feelings than a Christmas tree on fire. But apparently not to Steve.

It does make Bucky wonder, though, what it is that everyone sees. And while he does know his own feelings and that he loves Steve, he’s curious about why people would assume Steve loves him back. Not only that, but loves him enough to actually _want to get married to him_.

“What are you doing?”

Bucky jumps in his chair, hitting his knee on the edge of his desk and hissing in pain. “Fuck.”

“Charming,” Natasha deadpans, stealing Bucky’s mug and taking a sip of his coffee.

“I hate you,” Bucky grumbles, glaring at Natasha and throwing one of his pens at Clint. Clint catches the pen, twirling it in between his fingers and grinning. “Both of you.”

“Lies and slander,” Clint answers, sticking his tongue out.

“I’m doing my job, since you asked.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Nat, suspicious. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Nat shrugs, but Bucky isn’t fooled.

“What is it?”

“I heard your other half is out with Sam,” she says, like that explains something.

Bucky blinks. “Okay?”

“Getting _engagement rings_.”

Bucky’s heart does a little flip at that, body growing hot. He knows Steve said he’d take care of the rings, and it seems like he’s keeping his promise.

“Dude, you proposed without a ring?” Clint frowns at him.

“That is indeed a shame,” Thor pipes up as he approaches, handing Natasha some files.

“I didn’t propose,” Bucky argues, not appreciating the judgy looks. “Why do you guys think I was the one who proposed?”

Natasha just kind of gives him this _look_ , raising her eyebrow at him. “If you didn’t propose to Steve because you love him and want to spend the rest of your life with him, then _who did_?”

“Steve?” Bucky says, confused. “It was Steve who proposed.”

Natasha smiles this small and kind of terrifying smile and says, “Exactly.”

Bucky blinks at her and it takes him a few seconds for it to dawn on him and then he gasps and yells, “Steve proposed!”

 

**

 

Steve _proposed_.

That’s all that runs through Bucky’s mind the rest of the week, in an endless loop of hope and possibility and fear.

They were drunk, yes. They were reckless, yes. But Steve _proposed_. To _him_.

In all of the years Bucky’s been Steve’s friend, he’s seen Steve do a lot of shit: get into fights, climb mountains, go bungee jumping, get his motorcycle license, challenge Nat to an arm wrestling competition. The list is endless. But they all have one thing in common; even under the influence, they’ve all been things Steve has wanted to do.

Bucky knows he said yes to Steve because he loves him, because he wants them to be together. Until now, it never occurred to him that Steve might have proposed for the exact same reasons.

Because that’s why people do this, isn’t it? That’s why they propose. Alcohol aside.

The realization turns Bucky’s world upside down. It also opens his eyes to things around him, making it evident how blinded he was by dread and hurt to notice everything he was feeling was echoed in Steve’s eyes.

When Bucky thinks back to the Holiday party, that fateful night, he vaguely recalls Steve’s face, his cheeks flushed and eyes glinting under the fairy lights decorating the busy streets, as they stumbled home, their arms around each other. The sounds of laughter and the warm feeling that Bucky always associates with Steve are also there, as well as a deep sense of belonging he always gets whenever they’re together.

It makes his heart tug at his chest to wonder if maybe Steve felt, and still feels, the same way. It’s a new way to look at the world, and it completely fucks Bucky up.

But in the best of ways.

 

**

 

Bucky makes a promise to himself. He’s going to go along with this fake engagement thing, but he’s going to use it to his advantage.

He won’t do anything gross and shitty, like taking this situation as an excuse to make out with Steve and touch him  whenever he wants. But he will take this chance to figure out if Steve _does_ feel the same way about him as he feels for Steve.

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve does, now that Nat was kind enough to point it out to him. Like, ninety percent sure.

Okay, maybe eighty-five percent.

But he still wants to give himself some time to figure it all out. He wants to be sure of this, for both of their sake.

 

**

 

“Have a nice Christmas, you two,” Sam says, hugging Steve and Bucky goodbye as they leave the office.

“You too, Sam,” Steve says. “Don’t forget to hug your mom for me.”

“Do I ever?” Sam grins, waving goodbye once more before he walks away.

“I must go, as well,” Thor tells them, pulling Steve and Bucky into bone-crushing hugs. “May your holidays be filled with laughter and alcohol.”

Bucky laughs, clapping Thor on the back. “Right back at you, buddy.”

“Happy Holidays, Thor,” Steve tells him, grinning as Thor salutes them and leaves.

“You guys doing anything special for the holidays?” Steve asks Clint and Nat as they all walk together.

“We’re getting drunk,” Clint offers. “And eating pizza.”

“The joy,” Nat deadpans, but still links arms with Clint.

“You know you’re invited to spend Christmas with us,” Bucky tells her, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “Ma always says the more, the merrier.”

Nat grimaces a little. “We appreciate the invite, but…”

“No thanks?” Bucky laughs.

“It’s not that bad,” Steve pipes up. “Bucky’s family is cool.”

“ _Our_ family,” Bucky corrects him, poking Steve in the cheek. Steve tries to bite his finger, snapping his teeth.

“Yes, I like you, but I don’t to want to be around all of _that_ during the holidays,” Natasha comments, to which Clint nods.

“Whatever.” Bucky rolls his eyes, cheeks red. “Have fun doing your own thing, and if you need anything…”

“We won’t call,” Clint finishes, winking.

Bucky shakes his head, and he and Steve say goodbye to Nat and Clint as they part ways. They both go back to Bucky’s place, their arms brushing together as they walk. It isn’t anything unusual for them, to be this close to each other. They’re comfortable being in each other’s place, have been for years, long before Bucky realized he was in love with Steve.

One thing Bucky does notice, though, that he hadn’t before, is the way Steve leads him as they walk. Sometimes grasping Bucky’s elbow and pulling him a bit closer so he won’t bump into someone, other times pressing his palm to Bucky’s back and directing Bucky where he wants him.

This is definitely not something they did before, and it goes on Bucky’s brand-new mental list of ‘Things That Have Changed Between Him And Steve That He’s Only Realizing Now’. So far it consists of two things: the aforementioned touching, and Steve letting Bucky eat the last of his blueberry muffin during their lunch break.

That never used to happen. They’ve had fights about it when they were kids and older, to the point where Steve actually socked him once for swiping a muffin right from under his nose.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just ignores the butterflies in his stomach,  compiles his list, and tries to get home without melting into a pile of goo on the ground.

He mostly succeeds, although his chest does feel a little tight and his cheeks a little warm with the thought that _this might be a real thing_ and _Steve might really like me_. Soon enough him and Steve are back at his place, wearing their comfy holiday pjs, and drinking hot cocoa.

“How do you always make the best cocoa in the world?” Bucky wonders, licking some whip cream off his bottom lip.

“I’m just that talented, I guess.” Steve shrugs one shoulder, trying to play casual, but Bucky can see the little pleased smile he hides behind the rim of his cup.

“You’re an ass, is what you are,” Bucky mumbles, laughing when Steve kicks him lightly on the shin.

“Jerk.”

Bucky bats his lashes and blows Steve a kiss, his usual response for whenever Steve swears at him. This time, though, because he’s paying closer attention to Steve, he catches the split second in which Steve’s gaze falls to his lips before his expression turns once again into one of faux annoyance.

It makes Bucky’s breath catch in his throat. This is by no means conclusive evidence — and Bucky thinks the only evidence he’ll think is conclusive is Steve downright confessing his feelings _or_ kissing the shit out of him —, but it sure does help to prove Natasha’s point that Steve is into him.

“You like me,” Bucky says despite himself, freezing for a split second that those words just came out of his mouth.

Steve just blinks at him, swallowing once before saying, “Well, you grew on me, I guess. Like mold.”

“Rude,” Bucky says, making a face at Steve.

Steve makes one right back, and then his face smooths over, all playfulness gone. “I need to give you something.”

“Okay…,” Bucky trails off, watching as Steve fishes something from the pocket of his reindeer hoodie.

“Here.” Steve extends a close fist to Bucky, dropping whatever he’s holding on Bucky’s hand once Bucky offers his palm to him.

The little black box doesn’t weight much on itself, but the meaning it carries is heavy on Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky looks down at it, a small lump forming on his throat. He slowly opens the box, biting down on his bottom lip when it reveals the simple golden band inside.

“Steve.”

“Thought I’d go for something simple, since, you know…”

 _Since they won’t be engaged for long_ , Bucky finishes the sentence in his head. It’ll probably only last through the long Christmas weekend they’ll be spending with Bucky’s family, maybe until the New Years, if they’re so inclined.

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky says, and he means it. It might be the cheapest ring at the store, but it came from Steve. That’s all that matters to Bucky.

“Thanks, I guess?” Steve ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck. “Maybe you should put it on?”

Bucky is breathless for a few seconds, eyes still glued to the ring. He shakes his head, pushing the box back to Steve. “You do it.”

It doesn’t feel right for him to be the one to slip the engagement ring on his own finger. He wants Steve to do this. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, but he wants to hold on to this moment.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, cheeks flushing. “Okay, wait a sec.”

Steve fumbles with the box, clumsy in the adorable way he gets whenever he’s nervous. For some reason, this calms Bucky a little. It’s good to know he’s not the only one affected by this, even if this isn’t real.

“Do you need help?” Bucky asks, amused.

Steve scowls at him, and then makes a little pleased sound when he finally gets the ring free. “Give me your hand.”

Bucky does, offering his left hand to Steve who takes it gently in his own. Bucky holds his breath as Steve slips the ring on his finger, the band cold against his skin and the warmth of Steve’s touch.

“It fits,” Bucky comments, a little surprised.

“Well, yeah,” Steve huffs. “I wasn’t going to get you a ring that didn’t fit.”

“I didn’t know you knew my ring size or whatever.”

Steve shrugs, but doesn’t offer a response. Bucky does notice the way his cheeks turn a little red, the blush making its way down his neck. Bucky stops himself from leaning in and putting his mouth on it, but only just.

“Where’s yours?” Bucky asks, thumbing at his new _engagement_ _ring_ , trying to get used to the feeling of it against his skin.

Steve hands Bucky his own ring, which matches Bucky’s own. Bucky lets out a breath before taking Steve’s hand, his heart beating rapidly as he puts the ring on Steve’s finger. He runs his thumb over it, once, before dropping Steve’s hand.

“Looks good,” Bucky says, voice a little rough.

So good Bucky kind of wants to wear it forever.

“Yeah.” Steve looks down at his hand, curling and uncurling it into fists a couple of times. “It looks great.”

Silence falls between them for a few seconds, broken only by the low sounds coming from the TV. They stare down at their hands, and Bucky asks himself if Steve is thinking the same thing as he is: that this looks right, both of them, wearing each other’s rings.

“We should probably talk about this, huh?” Bucky throws out there, taking a sip of his hot cocoa to settle his nerves. “Set up some boundaries?”

“That’d be good,” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I doubt you could, Stevie.”

“Still. This is kind of a new situation for us.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Right, because people get fake engaged all the time.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve replies, flicking Bucky on the arm. “Stop being difficult.”

Bucky rubs at his arm, but only so he can buy some time for himself. He knows Steve is right. He also doesn’t want to do anything that’ll go against Steve’s limits or will make uncomfortable. As much as Bucky would like a chance to be able to kiss and touch Steve whenever he wants, he knows this isn’t it.

Boundaries will also help him safeguard his heart. If he knows how far he can push, he’ll know when to stop before he gets hurt and before he does something to hurt Steve.

“Alright, so, boundaries.” Bucky licks his lips, staring at Steve. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, we’ll have to act like a couple,” Steve starts. “So we should probably talk about things that come with that.”

“You mean kissing,” Bucky offers, dying a little inside. “You want to talk about kissing.”

“Yes?” Steve says, awkward and totally unsure of himself.

Bucky clears his throat, trying to gather himself. “I guess, uh… I’d be cool with it? Maybe just some light kissing, though? No full-on making out with tongues and hands and…” Bucky trails off, his cheeks on fire. He’s definitely all up for kissing, for he doesn’t want his best kisses with Steve to happen because they’re pretending to be together.

Steve is staring at him like he kind of wants to shut Bucky up and disappear. He’s nodding along, though, like what Bucky says makes total sense and like this is an entirely normal conversation for two friends to have.

“That sounds okay,” Steve tells him, coughing once. “So, you mean, pecks? And general close-mouthed kisses?”

“Yup.” Bucky nods. “I mean, only if you’re cool—”

“I’m cool,” Steve interrupts him. “Super cool.”

Bucky snorts despite himself, giving Steve a long look. “You sound _super cool_.”

“Shuddup,” Steve groans, hiding his face behind a hand. “This is awkward, okay?”

“I _know_!” Bucky throws a hand up, the other still holding tightly to his mug, his new engagement ring biting into his skin. “It’s like a business deal, not…”

“ _Dating_ , yes, I know.” Steve lets out a breath, cheeks puffing out. “I mean, it’s good that we’re talking. Knowing each other’s limits and respecting boundaries is always good. And good communication does make way for healthy relationships.”

Bucky smiles, starting with a little curl to his lips that turns into a full-blown grin. “That’s adorable.”

“Your face is adorable,” Steve throws back, and then frowns at himself.

Bucky snickers. “Nice come back, loser.”

“Any _way_ ,” Steve says loudly, covering Bucky’s face with a hand. “PDA.”

“I’d rather avoid it,” Bucky admits, batting Steve’s hand away and feeling a lot calmer now that he knows they’re both feeling awkward as hell about this. “Things we’ve always done like hugs and stuff is okay, but I don’t want anyone groping me in front of my family.”

While that is an absolute truth for any kind of relationship Bucky’s ever been in, he really doesn’t want to flaunt his relationship with Steve in front of his family. Not when they aren’t together for real.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be okay with doing that anyway,” Steve says, relaxing a little. “That kind of stuff is not meant…”

“For my Grandma’s eyes?” Bucky jokes, but at the appalled look on Steve’s face, he laughs. “Yeah, I get you.”

“So,” Steve prompts, “no groping. No kissing with tongue. Hugs and chaste kissing are okay.”

“I’d say any touching above the waist is fine?” Bucky adds, worrying at his bottom lip. “And like, you resting your hand on my knee or something.”

“Like this?” Steve asks, casually placing his hand just above Bucky’s knee.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, a little choked up. He can feel the heat of Steve’s palm through the fabric of his pj pants, and he tries to commit it to memory. “Just like that.”

Steve leaves his hand where it is, and then turns to ask, “Petnames?”

“Sure, boo bear.”

The face Steve makes at that is a mixture of disgust and dread, all downturned lips and frowny eyebrows. “No,” Steve shuts it down. “No petnames.”

“Aw, honey bunch, why do you gotta be like that?”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, doll?” Bucky grins, pleasantly surprised when Steve sputters a little, cheeks red.

“No.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.”

“I hate you,” Steve mutters, face flushed.

“No, you don’t, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice a little softer than he meant to.

Steve doesn’t say anything to that, just digs his fingers above Bucky’s knee. The pressure makes Bucky yelp and jerk away, accidentally kicking his coffee table in the process.

“Punk,” Bucky grumbles, folding his legs under himself, far away from Steve’s quick fingers.

Steve just smiles at him, obviously pleased with himself. “No petnames.”

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, sulking a little. “Is there anything else?”

“I don’t think so? We have until tomorrow to figure it out.”

They’ll be leaving for Christmas Eve and Christmas at the Barnes’ tomorrow morning, bright and early. That still does give them some time to iron things out about their fake relationship, as well as touch on any other questions that come up between now and then.

“Sounds good.” Bucky nods, finishing the last of his hot cocoa. “Can we go back to watching _Die Hard_ now?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Aw, Steve,” Bucky teases, “I thought you said no petnames.”

Bucky doesn’t even try to duck away when Steve grabs one of his throw pillows and hits him with it. He just grabs it from Steve and hugs it close to his chest, feeling warm and happy and just a little nervous.

As big as this thing between them is, and as complicated as it can turn out to be, Bucky doesn’t think it’ll be horrible. This will be his chance to really find out if Steve feels the same way about him, and he has a feeling it’ll be a good journey.

They’re friends first, after all. If they can survive this awkward conversation they just had and make jokes about it, they’ll probably survive whatever his family throws at them.

Or so Bucky thinks, as they go to sleep that night. Sharing his bed with Steve is just normal at this point, but Bucky notices that they lie down facing each other instead of back to back like they used to, their new rings glinting.

Bucky adds that to his list and _hopes_.

 

**

 

Bucky stares at the front door to his childhood home and blinks. He’s been at it for a couple of minutes now, one hand gripping the bag filled with gifts he bought for his family, the other holding his key as if he’s about to unlock the door.

He doesn’t. He can’t really bring himself to.

Steve is patiently standing by his side, his own bag in hand. His shoulder is pressed against Bucky’s, a silent wall of support that keeps Bucky from turning around and bolting.

“We can call this off,” Steve murmurs, making Bucky twitch.

“No,” Bucky rasps out, and then clears his throat. “No, we can do this.”

Before Bucky can put the key in the lock, the door bursts open, startling the shit out of him. He jumps back, bumping into Steve, making both of them drop their bags.

Becca rushes through the door promptly tries to tackle Bucky to the ground. Bucky almost loses his balance, only just managing to stay upright. That might have a little something to do with Steve’s hands coming up to clutch at Bucky’s hips, though, helping him stand.

“You’re the worst brother in the entire world,” Becca says, voice muffled by Bucky’s coat.

“Right back at you,” Bucky huffs, but hugs Becca close to him and kisses the top of her head.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you two were a thing,” Becca complains, pulling back so she can glare at them. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen since I was, like, eight. What were you thinking?”

Bucky’s stomach flips at Becca’s words, his cheeks growing hot. It’s kind of weird for him that people saw something in him and Steve before he saw it himself, but he’s starting to think that, despite everything, he was the one a little bit slow on the uptake.

“We wanted some time for just us,” Steve tells her, his hands still on Bucky’s hips, holding on. “Sorry, Becs.”

“I guess I forgive you,” Becca sighs, and then squeals, throwing her skinny arms around them in a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, squirt,” Bucky answers, throat tight.

Even though this is a rouse, Bucky can’t help but appreciate how genuine Becca’s been. It’s nice to know his little sister loves them both this much.

“C’mon, everyone wants to see you!” Becca lets go and runs inside, leaving Bucky and Steve with a few precious minutes for themselves.

“We’ll be fine,” Steve says, letting go of Bucky’s hips and turning so they’re face to face. His gaze is soft but serious, letting Bucky know that as much as this was Steve’s idea, he’s willing to let it all go if Bucky wants him to.

“I guess we did kinda promised each other,” Bucky starts, taking a deep breath and grounding himself, “‘Til the end of the line and all of that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, shoulders relaxing. “This is a bit extreme, Buck.”

“I’m cool with it if you are,” Bucky tells him, one last chance for them to reassure themselves.

Steve stares at him, eyes flitting all over Bucky’s face. Bucky does his best not to squirm, feeling hot under Steve’s eyes, thoughts going back to the chance that Steve might love him as much as Bucky loves him.

“Yeah,” Steve says, voice surprisingly rough. “Let’s do this.”

Together, they step inside. And then everything turns into absolute chaos.

The Barnes fall on them as soon as they get to the living room, which is decorated for Christmas, with twinkly lights and snowman dolls and mistletoe on the ceiling. It’s all a mess of hugs and shouts and well wishes, of people patting them on the back and squeezing their arms and kissing their cheeks and grabbing their hands so they can see their rings.

It’s chaotic and nerve-wrecking and absolutely wonderful.

It makes Bucky feel loved and also like he’s the shittiest person on the planet to be lying to his family like this. When he catches Steve’s eyes from across the room, he finds the same look on Steve’s face, right before he gets dragged into another hug by Bucky’s grandma.

It takes them about ten minutes before they’re pushed together again, now finding themselves in the middle of the living room. They aren’t holding their bags or wearing their coats anymore, and someone managed to slip a Santa hat on Steve’s head.

Bucky has to give it to his family, though. They’re a force of nature.

“Hey, everyone,” Bucky says, and beside him Steve lifts up a hand and waves like the absolutely dork that he is.

“Out of my way! Out of my way!”

Bucky turns around to see him Ma push his Aunt Alice aside, breaking through the line of people blocking the entry to the kitchen. She stops short when she sees them, face breaking into a smile, the crinkles around her eyes more pronounced.

“Hi, Ma,” Bucky says.

Steve, for his turn, smiles. “Hi, Freddie.”

“My boys,” Winifred rushes to them, arms already open for a hug. She grabs them both by the shoulders, pulling them down to her, and kisses each of their cheeks. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You saw us last month, Ma,” Bucky points out, voice muffled by his Ma’s hair.

“Hush.” Winifred lets them pull back, her hands moving from their shoulder to cup their cheeks. “I’m your mother, I’m allowed to miss you when you’re gone.”

“I bet they don’t miss you,” Aunt Alice whispers, still loud enough for them to hear.

Bucky has to fight back a smile when his Ma turns around to glare at her sister-in-law, who only sets her jaw and glares right back.

“Don’t you two start,” Grandma cuts in, chiding them. “I won’t let you ruin our Bucky finally taking his head out of his ass and locking down on that boy.”

Everyone turns to them, expressions varying from excitement to happiness to a little bit of confusion. Bucky leans closer to Steve, as if somehow that’ll make them all look away from him. Obviously, it doesn’t work. It just makes them all smile, like Bucky did something cute.

This is another example of someone else seeing something in them that Bucky missed. It’s getting more and more clear that everyone had been expecting this, and the thought makes butterflies turn on Bucky’s stomach.

“Grandma said ass,” Matt, one of Bucky’s little cousins, whispers, eyes shinning with awe as he looks at his great-grandmother.

Bucky could hug him from taking everyone’s attention off of him and Steve, but as it is he just grabs Steve by the hand and tries to drag him away from everyone.

“Not so fast,” Becca sing-songs, stopping Bucky and Steve in their tracks. “I think I speak for all of us when I say this engagement came as a surprise.”

“Not really,” Richard, Bucky’s uncle, says. “We’ve all been expecting it since they were about your age.”

There are nods from Bucky’s aunts and uncles and cousins, as well from his Grandma and Ma. Even the little kids nod, heads bobbing, as if they understand everything that is going on. Bucky kind of wishes for a hole to open under him and make him disappear, all to save him from this kind of embarrassment. When he glances at Steve, it’s to find him as red as a tomato, his gaze firmly placed on the floor.

“I still don’t understand why you kept it from us,” his Ma comments, lips turned down. “We all love you.”

That gets her more murmurs of agreement, and the entirety of the Barnes clan stares expectantly at them, waiting for some kind of answer. Bucky tries to curl his hand into a fist, only now realizing that he’s still holding on to Steve. He doesn’t let go, instead squeezing Steve’s hand in his, thumb finding Steve’s engagement ring and tracing over it. The action makes Steve glance at him, open and trusting and all kinds of embarrassed.

That look, more than anything, gives Bucky the courage to turn to his family. “We wanted some time for just us,” he says, borrowing Steve’s words from earlier. “You know, just to _be_ us, in this new way. We know you all love us, but this is kind of a big deal. We wanted to take some time to figure things out for ourselves, without any expectations from other people.”

These words are more genuine than Bucky realized as he was saying them, as they capture precisely the reason he doesn’t want to confront Steve about the maybe-possible feelings Steve has for him. He wants some time to make sure this can be a real thing between them.

The Barnes don’t seem too happy about it, but they accept Bucky’s answer. Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief, slumping a little against Steve’s side.

“The important things is that you’re happy,” Winifred says, looking from Bucky to Steve and back again. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Steve says, with so much conviction Bucky startles a little.

They look at each other, and Bucky feels Steve squeeze his hand again. He knows what Steve means with that small gesture; he’s with Bucky in this, supporting him, in whatever it is that he wants to do.

Bucky finds himself softening as he and Steve stare at each other. While he thinks he could be happier — if they were _really_ together, that is —, this is also good. He has Steve with him, and that’s all Bucky could ever really ask for.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, never once taking his eyes off of Steve. “I’m happy.”

 

**

 

The Barnes let Steve and Bucky get settled after that, but not before they all hug and kiss them again. By the end of it they’re rumpled and a little hungry, and Bucky is feeling kind of shitty again for lying to his family. So it’s a good thing him and Steve go up to their old room, closing the door behind them.

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans, throwing himself on his old bed, the springs creaking.

Steve sits down on the edge of the mattress, elbows resting on his knees. “That could’ve been worse.”

Bucky makes a hurt little sound in the back of his throat. “Can we really do this?”

Bucky feels Steve’s hand wrap around his ankle, thumb brushing against his anklebone. “I think we can do anything, if we put our minds to.”

Bucky stares at his ceiling, stomach flipping. “That’s really sappy, Rogers.”

“It’s true, ain’t it, Barnes?” Steve throws back, and the words make Bucky smile.

Yes, it is true.

 

**

 

Christmas Eve at the Barnes is filled with tradition.

They all have breakfast together, and Bucky is thankful for once for how much his family loves food. No one talks much as they stuff their faces with pancakes and waffles and fruit, only occasionally asking someone to hand them something.

It’s peaceful, being around his family like this. Bucky misses the times they all gather together, which haven’t happen a lot since his father and grandpa passed. They’ve always been a close-knit bunch, and Bucky knows how lucky he is to have them.

Bucky’s also thankful for his family, and how no one hesitated to open their homes and hearts when Steve needed it most. Bucky will always be grateful for what they did for Steve, taking him in and giving him a home and making him part of the family when he had no one else.

“Want my blueberries?” Steve asks him quietly, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Sure,” Bucky says, because he never says no to blueberries. “You got something against them now or…?”

“No, no,” Steve stutters, pushing his blueberries into Bucky’s plate and not meeting his eyes. “It’s just… you like ‘em better than I do, is all.”

Bucky fights back a smile, bumping their knees together under the table. “Thanks.”

“Always,” Steve answers, glancing up at Bucky with a smile.

“Are you going to do that all the time now?” Arya, Bucky’s eight-year-old cousin, asks, frowning at them from across the table.

Steve turns to her, eyebrow raised. “Do what, sweetie?”

“Be gross.”

“Arya!” Jeanette, Arya’s mom, yells, horrified. She turns to Bucky and Steve, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” both Bucky and Steve say.

“I’m afraid so, bug,” Becca sighs, and then narrows her eyes at Bucky and Steve. “That’s what people do when they are in love. And you two are in love, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s stomach churns a little with unease, not liking that look on Becca’s face. He doesn’t have a lot of time to focus on that, thought, because then Steve is resting his hand on Bucky’s knee under the table, squeezing it a little.

“I thought that was kind of a given,” Steve answers with all the innocence he can muster, which is _a lot_ , “since we’re engaged and all.”

Bucky keeps himself from laughing or saying anything by eating his blueberries, eyes dancing as he looks from Becca to Steve and back again. Becca might be his little sister, but she and Steve have a bond all of their own. It usually involves ganging up on Bucky, but sometimes they clash, and when they do it always ends up being super fun to watch. At least for Bucky.

“I don’t know,” Becca drawls, viciously stabbing her pancake and cutting a piece. “You’re still acting the same. It’s like nothing’s changed.”

That strikes Bucky right in the chest, but he forces himself not to react. He knows nothing’s changed from his side because he _is_ in love with Steve, and while he’s pretty sure that’s true for Steve as well, he’s still not a hundred percent convinced.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, head tilted to the side. He’s obviously humoring Becca, and Bucky just hopes he has enough guts to follow it through.

Bucky almost rolls his eyes at himself. Who’s he kidding? This is _Steve_ , the single most stubborn person Bucky’s ever met.

“I haven’t even seen you kiss yet,” Becca replies, and Bucky goes cold inside. “I don’t think any of us has.”

The entire family is staring at them, eyes shifting from Becca to Bucky and Steve like on a tennis match. All Bucky can do is chew on his blueberries and hope for the best.

He feels Steve tense beside him, so he slides a hand under the table, resting it over Steve’s on his knee. He tangles their fingers together, rings clinking, a silent show of support, letting Steve know Bucky will follow his lead on this.

“We’re not here for your entertainment, Becs,” Steve says, voice low but carrying through the room, his tone daring anyone to say otherwise. “We’re not here to perform for you so you can gawk at us. This is our lives and this is how our relationship is. It works for us. Don’t diminish that because you think we need to prove something to you.”

Becca sucks in a deep breath, her eyes huge and face pale. Bucky feels a little bad for her, but he knows Steve is right. No one should demand this kind of behavior from others, especially if they don’t know if it’s something they’re comfortable with.

“I’m sorry,” Becca murmurs, getting up from the table. “I didn’t mean you had to do that.”

Steve gets up as well, coming around so he can pull Becca into a hug. “I forgive you.”

Bucky hears some sniffling from his Ma’s side of the table, but pointedly ignores any tears he sees when he glances around the room. “So,” he starts, waiting until Becca and Steve are sitting down again, “how’s gonna help decorate the tree this afternoon?”

 

**

 

“That was good,” Bucky says, helping Steve make hot cocoa for the kids as an afternoon snack. “You know, what you said to Becca.”

They haven’t had much time alone since breakfast, busy between separating the Christmas tree decorations and welcoming the other members of the family that arrived during the morning. They house is pleasantly full and warm, and Bucky basks in it.

“I didn’t mean to be so harsh,” Steve admits, stirring the hot cocoa. “It’s just… I don’t like that, you know? Being made into some kind of performing monkey because people have this idea in their heads of how I should act.”

“I know,” Bucky assures him, knocking elbows with Steve. “I think we even had some fights about it.”

Steve snorts, hip-checking Bucky. “Maybe just one or two.”

“Really, though, thanks for saying that,” Bucky tells him, crushing some candy canes. “Not only it’ll get Becca off our backs, but it’ll likely keep anyone from calling us out on the PDA thing.”

“Right,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, clearing his throat. “I suppose that works out for us.”

Bucky frowns a little at Steve’s tone, taking in his now tense shoulders and clenched jaw. He knows a defensive Steve when he sees him, and this is it.

“Not that it would be bad,” Bucky tries, gaze glued to his crushed candy canes as he speaks, “if we did have to, you know, kiss and such. I agree it wouldn’t be cool to do it just because someone _else_ wants us to, but, I mean… You get me.”

There is nothing from Steve, and for one panicked second Bucky thinks he’s fucked it all up. But then he feels Steve’s hand rest on his arm, tentative and light.

“Buck?” Steve turns Bucky around, his brows furrowed and eyes flashing with something Bucky wants to believe is hope.

“Y-yeah?” Bucky stutters, heart in his throat.

Steve licks his lips, and Bucky can’t help but flick his gaze to Steve’s mouth, lips so pink and plump that Bucky wants to bite them. He knows Steve doesn’t miss it, hears the sharp intake of breath from him.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes out, the sound like music to Bucky’s ears.

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, letting Steve pull him closer with a hand on his arm.

They lean in, hot cocoa and crushed candy canes forgotten. Bucky can see the freckles on the bridge of Steve’s nose, can count his lashes, can feel Steve’s breath ghost over his parted lips. They’re so close, almost touching, and all it would take for them to kiss would be a tilt of Bucky’s—

“Is the hot cocoa ready?” Matt asks from the door to the kitchen, hands gripping at the hem of his snowman sweater as he rocks on his heels and stares up at them.

Steve and Bucky jump apart, Bucky tripping on his feet a little and hitting his hip against the kitchen counter. He hisses and rubs at the spot, while Steve goes to talk to Matt and reassure him that they’ll have their drinks soon.

Bucky gives his back to them, heart pounding.

He can’t believe he and Steve _almost kissed_.

As in, their lips _almost touched_.

Bucky busies himself crushing more candy canes, trying to calm himself down while Steve talks to Matt. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose, willing his hands to stop shaking.

There’s no mistaking what was about to happen if Matt hadn’t interrupted. He didn’t mean to throw it out there that he wouldn’t be opposed to kissing Steve, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.

Bucky _definitely_ didn’t think it’d get a reaction like that from Steve. As much as his eyes have been opened to the way Steve is with him, he hadn’t really let himself get his hopes up about this — about _them_. But now he knows: Steve, at least, _for sure_ wants to kiss him.

The thought makes Bucky giddy, and he has to bite down on his lip not to giggle. It turns out to be easy enough when he feels Steve at his side again, the warmth of Steve’s body close to his.

“We should probably finish this, huh?” Steve comments, sounding a little bit disappointed.

“We should.” Bucky nods, and then chances a glance at Steve.

Steve is back to stirring the cocoa, his cheeks flushed red and his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He looks all kinds of flustered, his movements jerky and unsure as he turns off the stove and throws the spoon in the sink.

“What?” Steve asks him when he notices Bucky looking, his voice pitched high and defensive.

Bucky just smiles, a slow curve of his lips. “Nothing.”

“Bucky,” Steve huffs, knowing that he’s lying.

Bucky can’t bring himself to say anything else, though. The moment’s been broken with Matt’s interruption, but Bucky holds close the realizations it brought him and the memory of their almost kiss.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” Bucky tells Steve, bumping their sides together.

“Okay?” Steve shifts in place, his lips turned down. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he pours the hot cocoa into mugs, something he only does when he’s nervous and worried.

So Bucky takes a chance so he can reassure Steve that nothing is wrong, bracing one of his hands on the counter while the other goes to the back of Steve’s neck. He feels Steve tense under his palm, but that doesn’t stop him from holding Steve still and leaning up so he can smack a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“So that’s why you’re taking so long,” Aunt Alice interrupts them, smirking when Bucky and Steve jump away from each other the second time that  day. “I know you two are sweet on each other, but the kids want their hot cocoa.”

“Yes, Aunt Alice,” Bucky sighs, waiting until she leaves before he looks back at Steve.

Steve is smiling down at the mugs, a soft sweet kind of smile Bucky’s never seen before. It makes him look younger than he is, makes him glow with happiness, and the sight goes straight to Bucky’s gut.

“What?” Bucky asks, trying to settle down the butterflies in his stomach.

“Nothing,” Steve tells him, organizing all the mugs on a tray. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah?” Bucky whispers.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his sweet smile turning into a grin. “I promise.”

 

**

 

Bucky thinks he’s going to explode.

All he can think about the rest of the day is their almost kiss and what it means for them. He finds himself either smiling like an absolute idiot or nervously running his hands through his hair, all as his mind replays having Steve that close to him, about to _kiss_ _him_.

There’s not one part of Bucky that can be blind to this anymore. They’re friends, yes, and always will be, but there’s definitely something more between them now. It makes Bucky’s heart sing with hope, to know that this can really be a thing between them.

It doesn’t help that since the almost kiss, they’ve been _touching_. All the time.

It’s not that different from how they usually are with each other. They have very little concept of personal space between them, always hugging or pushing or touching each other in some way. But since this morning, things have definitely changed.

The way they touch each other has changed.

It starts with Steve sitting beside him on the couch after they hand the kids their drinks. Bucky is used to them sitting so close together that their sides brush, but Steve throwing his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and slowly tracing his fingers up and down Bucky’s arm is new.

Then there’s Bucky not fighting the urge to run his fingers through Steve’s hair when he walks behind him on the couch on his way to the bathroom, fingers carding through the short soft strands. Steve leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, humming deep in his throat.

There’s also the way Steve always seems to have a hand on him whenever they’re in arms reach of each other. Either putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder or holding Bucky’s hand or, in one memorable occasion, snaking his arm around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky feels his cheeks flame just to think about the solid wall of heat Steve’s chest makes against his back, and the sure touch of Steve’s hand curled on his hip. Bucky is not proud of the way his voice fails him when Steve touches him like that, but he doesn’t hesitate to rest his hand on top of Steve and lean back against him.

A very small and insecure part of Bucky isn’t sure how much of this new behavior is for show, and how much of it comes from Steve being sure Bucky is open to something more between them. There was a definite flip in things after the almost kiss, but they haven’t actually sat down and talked about it all.

Bucky wants to think it’s because of the latter, because Steve likes him back. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if all of this ends up being Steve trying to convince everyone they’re in love.

“You okay?” Steve asks him, helping Bucky untangle the Christmas lights as they get ready to start one of the oldest Barnes Christmas traditions.

“Sure,” Bucky kind of lies, trying to push the negative thoughts out of his head. It won’t do him any good to second-guess himself like this, not now.

Steve frowns at him, letting go of the lights so he can rest one hand on Bucky’s back, sliding it up and down in a soothing motion. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out, leaning into the touch. “I’m good.”

“Alright, everyone,” Winifred calls, clapping her hands together. “Do you all know what you have to do?”

Decorating their Christmas tree on Christmas Eve is a Barnes family tradition. Every year each family member is in charge of a little part of the decoration, either it be the lights or ornaments or garland or the big star at the top.

“Yes!” the kids yell, each of them holding a little box of ornaments.

“Then let’s do this!”

Bucky and Steve are the first ones to go, wrapping the colored lights around the tree. The kids all watch them, practically bouncing in place as they wait for their turn, their plastic ornaments clinking together.

“Ma, what are you doing?” Bucky asks when he sees his Ma with her phone out, pointing it at them.

“I need new pictures!” she answers, clicking away. “This is the first time you decorate the tree as a couple.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans, glaring when Steve chuckles.

“What? It’s cute,” Steve mutters under his breath, smiling a little.

“Is it, though?” Becca pipes up, giving them a considering look.

Bucky has the sneaky suspicious that she’s on to them. She’s been mostly quiet since what happened at breakfast, but Bucky has felt her eyes on them throughout the day. She hasn’t said anything about it yet, but Bucky can’t help but wonder.

To be fair, if there’s anyone who would figure out they’re only pretending to be together, that person would be Becca.

“Is it what?” Winifred asks, distracted as she tries different angles to take more pictures.

“The first time they did this as a couple,” Becca explains. “I mean, we don’t even know when you two got together.”

“Oh, yes, boys,” Winifred smiles sweetly, “I’d love to hear the story, if you don’t mind.”

“Me too,” Grandma agrees, putting down her knitting needles so she can give them her full-attention. “We need some new entertainment around here.”

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, asking for strength.

“Is it story time?” Gracie, Bucky’s four-year-old second cousin, asks. She drops down on the floor, still holding tightly to her ornament box, her legs folded under her. “I’m ready.”

The other kids follow, all sitting down and looking expectantly up at Bucky and Steve.

Bucky freezes, panic shooting through him for a moment. Him and Steve never talked about this, never came up with a plausible story of how they got together. In between getting the rings and talking about the prospect of PDA, it never occurred to Bucky to ask.

It seems like Steve doesn’t have this problem, though, as he takes a deep breath and says, “Well, Freddie is right. This _is_ our first time spending Christmas as a couple.”

Bucky blinks, turning to Steve. He has to give Steve props for not lying, since this _is_ kind of their first Christmas together, even though it’s all pretend.

“When did you get together?” Becca asks, taking a sit on the floor next to the kids.

“On Bucky’s birthday,” Steve lies, still busy wrapping the lights around one of the tree branches. Bucky just watches him, limply holding his own lights. “You guys know we threw him a surprise party, right? You saw the pictures.”

“There were balloons,” Matt offers, grinning. “And a cake.”

“The best cake,” Bucky corrects him, because he still remembers the delicious layered red velvet cake Steve ordered for the party. Bucky spent the entire week after his birthday eating it for dessert, and he misses it dearly.

“The best cake.” Steve grins, and then his expressions softens a little, his eyes flicking to Bucky. “I kind of had a plan, you see.”

“Oh, dear,” Winifred says, plopping down on the couch and already holding on to a handkerchief.

“Of course you had a plan.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve. “That’s how surprise parties happen.”

“It was more than for just the party,” Steve explains, taking Bucky’s lights from him so they can keep decorating the tree. “I decided that was the night I was going to tell you I love you.”

Winifred gasps, and Bucky is almost there with her. He stares at Steve, heart in his throat, not believing his ears.

“How did you do it?” Becca asks, sounding more genuine than like she wants to catch them on a lie.

“I waited until everyone left,” Steve continues, resolutely not looking at Bucky or anyone else, focused entire on the Christmas lights as he speaks, “and it was just us in the apartment. There was still some cake left, the music was on, and your brother was dancing in the living room with icing covering half his face.”

Bucky remembers that, although Steve has left out a very important detail: Bucky was on his way to being completely drunk. The reason he was covered in icing was because he couldn’t bother to find a fork and, being buzzed, he restored to eating cake with his hands, which ended up with him covered with food.

“I don’t know if it was how dumb he looked,” Steve says, which earns him a few laughs, “or how happy he was or the way the lighting made him glow, but it hit me… I mean, I already knew I loved him, but in that moment? Seeing him like that? Without a care in the world and so ridiculously happy? It was like falling in love all over again.”

Bucky presses his lips together, his eyes wet. He wants nothing more than to shut Steve up, to grab him and pull him close, to press their lips together and kiss him until they’re breathless. But he’s rooted to the spot, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

“So I walked up to him,” Steve keeps going, the entire room silent, “and took his cake away—”

“No!” Gracie and Matt gasp, much to everyone’s delight.

“I did.” Steve nods, although he still doesn’t look at anyone. “He wasn’t happy about it either. He actually tried to push me.”

“James!” Winifred snaps, startling Bucky.

“What?” Bucky looks at her, baffled. “It was very good cake!”

The little interruption is enough to get his heart to slow down a little, although he still feels like he’s free falling. Because everything that Steve’s said up to this point? It _all happened_.

“I didn’t mind,” Steve tells them, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Because that was when I kissed him.”

“ _Ew_ ,” the kids say, all making gross out faces.

Bucky, for his turn, is pretty sure his entire world stops.

“After the kiss, I finally told him how I felt.” Steve takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “I guess after that, you can say the rest is history.”

That’s when Steve looks up at him, eyes sad and wistful all at once. It almost kills Bucky, to see him look like that. Especially because he knows that’s not how the story went at all.

Steve didn’t kiss him.

In truth, when he took Bucky’s cake away and Bucky tried to push him, Bucky lost his balance and slipped, falling ass first on the floor. Bucky remembers the sharp pain of it, as well as star-fishing where he fell because the room started spinning. He vaguely recalls Steve helping him up, their attempts at cleaning all the icing off, and Steve forcing him to take some water and Advil to help with the hangover before putting him to bed.

There was no kissing, none at all.

And now Bucky wonders if there could have been.

He wonders if anything Steve has said could have been true. If this is how he really feels, and if that was really his plan to come clean and tell Bucky all about it.

Bucky doesn’t have a chance to ask, though, because next thing he knows his Ma is coming up to hug them. The kids, seeing her do that, all get up as well, crowding around them and giving hugs of their own.

Bucky feels numb, but he tries his best to not let anyone see it. He keeps his eyes glued to Steve, who all but ignores him as he finishes putting up the lights. Bucky wants to reach out to him, to take him away, to ask _so many questions_.

But he can’t.

Because then Steve is excusing himself and walking away, and Bucky is caught between at least five different kids hugging his legs. By the time he gets free of them, Steve is nowhere to be seen and Bucky can’t find him around the house.

“He went to see his Ma.” Grandma catches up to him as Bucky checks the study, a knowing look in her eyes.

“He did?” Bucky curls into himself, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t have time to think about what his Grandma might know, and at this point, with Steve not here? He doesn’t really care.

“He sure mumbled something about it as he ran out of here like a bat out of hell,” Grandma answers, gingerly sitting down on one of the armchairs and patting the arm rest.

Bucky sits down on it, snaking an arm around his Grandma’s shoulder at the same time she wraps one around his waist. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

It’s also tradition, albeit a sad one, for Steve to go to the cemetery to visit his Ma on Christmas Eve. Bucky never goes with him, giving Steve time alone with Sarah like he’s asked the first year after she was gone. Steve usually stays there for a couple of hours and when he comes back he is always quiet and a little withdrawn.

“I think he was all out of words, that boy,” Grandma sighs. “He kind of reminds me of your Grandpa, did you know?”

“Really?”

“Really.” Grandma nods. “Hearts of gold, good to the bone, a nice round bottom.”

“ _Grandma_ ,” Bucky groans, covering his face with a hand. He can’t help but laugh a little, though, even through his embarrassment.

Grandma tsks, hugging Bucky close. “Your Grandpa was a good man, but he had some trouble when it came to matters of the heart. Just like your Steve.”

“I don’t…”

“It took him a while figure himself out, you know, on the inside,” Grandma tells him, her eyes shining. “And when he did, he wasn’t always good at putting it into words. Sometimes he needed a little _push_.”

Bucky swallows, not liking the way his Grandma is staring at him, all meaningful and like she kind of wants to hit Bucky on the head. “Thanks for the advice.”

Grandma huffs, pinching Bucky lightly on the side. “And you’re as oblivious as your father was.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t until Winifred landed one on him on his birthday in front of the entire family that he realized she liked him.” Grandma rolls her eyes. “And even then it took him a second.”

“Grandma, do you know about…” Bucky trails off, not really knowing how to ask his grandmother if she knows he’s _pretending_ to be engaged to the man he loves.

Grandma smiles, face wrinkled and innocent. “I’m just an old lady,” she says, bringing a hand up and cupping Bucky’s cheek. “I’m lucky if I remember where I put my glasses.”

“You don’t wear glasses,” Bucky points out, smiling despite himself.

“See? I know nothing,” Grandma says, and then braces her hand on Bucky’s thigh so she can get up. “And I’ll continue to know nothing, no matter how many times your sister asks me about it.”

Bucky swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you. And I’m sorry—”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Grandma cuts him off, and then places a kiss on his forehead. “Everything will work itself out for the better. You’ll see.”

 

**

 

Steve doesn’t come back until dinner time.

Bucky has to stop himself from rushing to him, knowing Steve needs some time to regroup whenever he comes back from visiting his Ma. It isn’t easy, especially when he sees how red Steve’s eyes are and hears him sniffling a little.

It takes all of his strength to push his questions down, but he knows that’s for the best. Even though he wants answers, it will do them both no good to pry them out of Steve when he’s vulnerable. So Bucky doesn’t say anything, trying to focus on his Grandma’s advice that everything will work itself out.

Dinner is a little awkward between them. Steve is still quiet, and he keeps his gaze focused on his plate as he eats. Bucky wants to reach out to him, but he knows to leave Steve have his space until he decides he’s okay again.

Still, that doesn’t stop Bucky from sneaking glances at him as they eat and the family chatters around them. It hurts Bucky’s heart to see Steve like this, but it’s something they’re used to. It’s been part of their lives since they were teenagers, and while Steve doesn’t take his Ma’s passing as hard as he used to, it’s still tough. It always will be.

So Bucky makes sure Steve knows he’s there for him, just like always. That mostly involves not leaving Steve’s side, even when they get up to help bring the dishes back to the kitchen before dessert. It also involves Bucky sneaking an extra slice of apple pie for Steve, topping it with enough whip cream to drown a man.

Bucky knows it’s not much, but it’s enough to make Steve’s lips quirk up at the corners when Bucky places the plate in front of him. Bucky ignores the familiar way his heart clenches in his chest at making Steve feel better, just happy he gets to be here to do this.

“Thanks,” Steve mutters, and for the first time since he came back, he touches Bucky.

It’s just their knees pressing together under the table, but it makes Bucky’s stomach flip as he presses back.

“Always,” Bucky answers, voice low. “You know it.”

“Just look at you two,” Winifred coos, resting her chin on her hands and grinning at them. She’s misty-eyed, and the wine glass in front of her is almost empty. “This is such a gift.”

“Ma,” Bucky starts, knowing how his Ma gets whenever she’s had too much wine.

“I’m so _happy_ ,” Winifred gushes, smiling turning a little wobbly, “that you two are together. After _all this time_.”

“Freddie—” Steve tries to stop her, without much success.

“You two were such cute little boys,” Winifred continues, “always together, causing trouble. And now you’re _here_. Together. About to get _married_.”

“Oh, jeez,” Bucky mumbles, glaring at Becca when she giggles.

“You found each other when you were so little,” Winifred sniffles, eyes filling with tears. “And you’ve been by each other’s side for… for so _long_. I have so many albums filled with— _Albums_!”

With a start, Winifred gets up, disappearing to the living room. Everyone else shakes their heads at her, amused. It’s not the first time she’s done this; a little too much wine and she’ll break out the old family albums and reminisce about their lives.

It just sucks that she had to focus on Bucky and Steve this time.

Guilt threatens to swallow Bucky whole as his Ma comes back, carrying three different photo albums which Bucky is sure contain _a lot_ of pictures of him and Steve. It doesn’t help when she starts looking through them, crying a little, saying over and over again how happy she is they’re together.

“And you both look so happy,” Winifred says, clutching at her chest. She’s not looking down at the pictures, though, her gaze focused on Bucky and Steve sitting at the table. “I’m so glad you two are here, together. And that you’ll have each other for the rest of your lives. It’s such a blessing to be with someone who loves you and knows you.”

Bucky feels his own eyes grow wet, and his voice is thick and cracks when he says, “Thanks, Ma.”

“I love you both,” Winifred says, hugging her photo album to her chest. “My two boys.”

“We love you, too,” Steve whispers, and Bucky has to look away, blinking back tears.

“Excuse me,” Bucky says roughly, not being able to take this anymore, pushing his chair back and getting up.

No one tries to stop him as he makes his way to his room. Their family is kind of used to at least two people crying during the holidays, so they’ve learned to just go on as if nothing’s happened.

Bucky takes in a shaky breath once he’s upstairs, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. His Ma’s words hit him hard, and he’s having a difficult time dealing with the emotions they bring.

In the end, him and Steve _are_ pretending to be together. This brings up so much guilt for Bucky, since he’s lying to his family, and it’ll break his Ma’s heart if it all ends up being for nothing.

But nothing his Ma said is wrong.

Bucky is happy to be with Steve, even if it’s all pretend. Steve makes him happy, as happy as Bucky can be, and Bucky will never deny that life is better for him when he has Steve to share things with. He loves Steve, after all, and he does want to spend the rest of their lives together.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice comes through the door, followed by a soft knock. “Can I come in?”

Bucky breathes in deep, trying to steady himself. He opens the door and lets Steve inside, before closing it behind them. “Sorry.”

Bucky doesn’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for crying and leaving the room, maybe for the mess that is this situation, maybe for getting drunk and causing this in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, brows furrowed with concern.

Bucky shrugs, because he isn’t, not really. He’s scared. There’s too much he wants to say, to confess, but he doesn’t know where to begin.

“We can drop this, you know,” Steve tells him, not for the first time. “If it gets to be too much.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just being an idiot.”

“Well, what else is new?” Steve tries to joke, but it falls a little flat.

Bucky still laughs, though. He always does, at all of Steve’s dumb jokes. “You’re my best friend, you know?”

“I know,” Steve mutters, smiling a little.

“And what Ma said is right,” Bucky continues, fighting back tears again. “I am glad we found each other, because life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Steve’s face softens, eyes turning liquid as he swallows hard and gives Bucky a sharp nod. He’s clenching his jaw, almost as if he’s fighting back something. When his nose twitches a little, Bucky knows what Steve is fighting back are tears of his own.

It’s the easiest thing, right then, for Bucky to walk up to Steve and hug him tight, his arms going around Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t even have to think about it, their cheeks pressed together, his hand sliding up and down Steve’s back. Not when Steve melts against him, arms wrapping themselves around Bucky’s waist, his nose tucked against Bucky’s jaw.

They don’t say anything, and Bucky doesn’t ask his questions that night, but they stay like that for a really long time.

 

**

 

Bucky thinks he’s ready for Christmas morning.

As usual, he couldn’t be more wrong.

“Wake up! Wake up! Bucky! Steve! It’s Christmas!”

Bucky barely has any time to roll over before one of his cousins jump on the bed, successfully kneeing Bucky in the ribs and elbowing Steve in the stomach. They both grunt, curling around each other to try and protect themselves from being crushed by tiny children feet.

“Wake! Up!”

Bucky tucks his head under Steve’s arm, clutching at Steve’s side as he tries to use Steve’s body as a shield. Steve huffs, swearing at Bucky under his breath, and taking his revenge by digging his nails into Bucky’s side.

“We’re awake,” Bucky giggles, ticklish, and tries to squirm away from Steve’s fingers. “Jeez, we’re awake.”

The kids laugh — or cackle, really —, before jumping away, leaving Steve and Bucky on the bed, their pillows on the floor and the blankets a mess.

“I hate children,” Steve grumbles, sprawling on his back, his bed hair sticking up everywhere.

“Liar.” Bucky laughs. “They’re your favorite family members.”

Steve grunts, throwing an arm over his face. Bucky takes the chance to look at him, lips curved up in a smile.

They didn’t talk about things yesterday, as much as Bucky wanted them to. It was roller coaster of a day, both of them too emotional, and Bucky thought best not to bring up their almost kiss and Steve’s story about how they got together. The questions are still burning through him, but he figures he can save them for a little while longer.

“C’mon,” Bucky pokes Steve in the stomach, “We better go before they come here again.”

Bucky makes to get up, but Steve catches him by the wrist and pulls him down again. Bucky goes with a ‘oof’, breath rushing out of him, especially when Steve rolls over so he’s on top of Bucky, his arms around Bucky’s shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” Steve says, voice muffled by Bucky’s hoodie.

Bucky sighs, squeezing Steve back. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

Together, they stumble down the stairs, still sleepy but in a much better mood than yesterday. It seems like they’ve both decided to set things aside, at least for now, while they celebrate Christmas with their family.

The kids are already making a ruckus in the living room, their parents barely awake trying to keep them from destroying the house in their excitement. Grandma is dozing off in her favorite chair, head on the backrest, her mouth half-opened as she snores.

“Who’s Santa’s helper this year?” Steve asks, yawning.

Bucky sticks his finger inside Steve’s mouth, snickering when Steve makes a little annoyed sound and reels back, snapping his mouth close. “That’s what you get for not covering your mouth.”

“You sound just like your Ma,” Steve points out, grinning and ducking away when Bucky tries to punch him.

“Shuddup.” Bucky scowls, all fake anger. He flops down on one of the empty seats on the couch, pulling Steve down with him. They sit down in a tangle of limbs and elbow each other until they’re comfortable, stopping only when Winifred gives them a warning look. “Becca’s the one helping this year,” Bucky says, scratching at the light stubble on his jaw. “Then Uncle Bill, then you.”

“I can’t wait,” Steve deadpans, but Bucky knows he’s excited about it. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing the kids happy.

“Who’s ready for presents?” Becca asks, still wearing her pajamas but sporting a Santa hat on her head.

“I am! I am!” the kids yell, some jumping in place, others kneeling close to the tree.

Tradition means all the kids get one present first, then the adults, then whoever it is the Santa helper picks random gifts from under the tree. It’s a system that works well for them, as it distracts the kids from trying to jump on the piles of presents. It also means everyone gets to share in the joy that is the Christmas gift exchange, without being put on the spot.

Bucky definitely enjoys himself opening his presents, few they may be. It might have something to do with the fact that he and Steve glue the bows decorating their wrapped gifts on each other, laughing like they are kids.

They both get the usual sweaters and wool socks, as well as a few books and DVDs. Bucky scores a sweet black leather jacket that he puts on over his pjs, and Steve ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ at the new set of brushes from Bucky’s Ma.

“Oh, that one’s from me,” Bucky says when he sees Becca hand Steve a gift wrapped in newspaper.

Steve snorts, rolling his eyes. “The wrapping kind of gave it away.”

“It’s tradition,” Bucky reminds him, glueing another bow on Steve, this time on his forehead.

Bucky was nine the first time he decided to wrap Steve’s Christmas gift all by himself. The problem was that he couldn’t find where his Ma kept all the wrapping paper, so he had to make do with the comics section from the newspaper.

It’s been over twenty years, and Bucky hasn’t stopped.

“Oh my god,” Steve gasps, and then bursts out laughing. He laughs with his entire body, eyes crinkling at the corners, and leans heavily against Bucky’s side, the gift in his hands. “Where did you _find_ this?”

Bucky grins at him. “Remember when Ma asked me to come by to help clean out the attic? I found it in one of the boxes, along with a bunch of our old stuff.”

“This is amazing,” Steve tells him, beaming down at his hands. “And you binded them too.”

‘Them’ turns out to be an old comic series written by Bucky and drawn by Steve when they were kids: _Captain America & the Winter Soldier_. There are four complete issues, plus some scattered sketches and bits and pieces of writing, all yellowed out by time. It’s full of explosions and car chases and aliens, and it holds some of Bucky’s favorite childhood memories.

“Gotta protect the artwork,” Bucky teases, peering down at the comic. “Do you like it?”

“I _love_ it,” Steve answers, still beaming. Then he turns and throws his arms around Bucky, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Always, Steve,” Bucky mumbles, hugging back just as tight.

“My gift is going to be so lame,” Steve sighs, pulling back slowly. He leaves one of his arms around Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky shameless leans against Steve’s side.

“Did you get me a comb again?” Bucky makes a face, mostly joking.

“That was _one time_ ,” Steve complains, rolling his eyes when Bucky laughs.

Steve, in fact, did not get him a comb.

“How is _this_ lame, holy cow!” Bucky cheers, staring down at the brand new pair of combat boots lying on his lap.

“Now you can live up to your dreams of being a rock star,” Steve tells him, flicking the lapels of Bucky’s leather jacket.

“Will you still be my number one fan?” Bucky asks, batting his lashes.

“There are worse things to be,” Steve admits, eyes soft, his finger trailing up and down Bucky’s arm.

Bucky’s breath hitches, and he doesn’t stop himself from leaning in and resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispers, heart in his throat.

He hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath, and sees him slowly close his eyes, lashes casting shadows against his cheek. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

 

**

 

Bucky isn’t sure how he survives the rest of the morning _and_ Christmas lunch.

He figures it’s because between putting gifts away, showering, getting dressed, cleaning the living room of wrapping paper, _and_ somehow being roped into helping cook lunch, he doesn’t have much time for anything else. Anything else mainly being freaking out about him and Steve.

Something _definitely_ changed between them, but they haven’t yet addressed it. Bucky can’t wait until the family all leaves so they can talk without the fear of being interrupted by anyone or roped into another task.

As is, he’s too busy sprawled on the couch, rubbing his tummy and cursing himself for eating too much at lunch. Steve is by his side, looking like he’s seconds away from falling asleep, eyes heavy and hair a mess.

“C’mon, boys,” Bucky’s Ma calls them, ruffling their hair. “You’re supposed to help me with the clean up.”

“Do we hafta?” Bucky says through a yawn, slumping further against the couch.

“Yes,” Winifred answers, tugging at his ear. “Get up.”

Bucky grumbles but goes, with Steve following along with him. Cleaning up is slow going, with the amount of dishes spread around the living room. Bucky would be impressed at his family’s ability to make this much of a mess if it didn’t happen every year. Still, it takes them some time to bring it all to the kitchen, time in which Bucky wishes he was lying down in bed, sound asleep.

“You forgot a plate,” Grandma says when he and Steve walk past her on their way from their kitchen.

“Where?” Bucky asks, looking around.

“Near the fireplace.”

Bucky frowns, checking the mantle. “There’s nothing here.”

“It’s there. I can see it,” Grandma insists, then turns to Steve. “Go help him, kiddo. Your eyes are better.”

“Thanks, Grandma,” Bucky replies, clutching at his chest. “Truly.”

“You’re welcome,” Grandma sniffs, but Bucky can see the way her lips quirk up. “Did you find it?”

“Are you sure it’s a plate and not part of the mantle, Grandma?” Steve asks, looking around. “I don’t see anything.”

“Take a step to the right, both of you,” Grandma instructs. “Then you’ll see it.”

Steve and Bucky do, but there’s still no sign of the plate. Not that it matters, because a second later Becca walks into the living room and promptly starts cackling.

“What?” Bucky looks at her, startled. “What is it?”

“Look up,” Becca smirks, and Bucky’s insides turn cold.

Because right above him and Steve, looking totally harmless, is mistletoe.

 

**

 

If he’s being honest with himself, Bucky is kind of surprised they lasted until mid-Christmas day before this happened. A part of him was expecting it, but he never thought his _Grandma_ would be the one to con him into getting trapped under the mistletoe with Steve. He was sure it would be Becca.

Bucky clearly should have given his Grandma more credit.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, licking his lips, as if he’s waiting for Bucky to decide how he wants to play this.

And that’s when Bucky figures it out. He understands now what Grandma said about everything working itself out, about Grandpa needing a push when it came to matters of the heart. This is _her_ giving _them_ their little push, so Bucky can make clear to Steve where they stand.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky says, offering him a small smile.

His heart feels like it’s gonna rip itself out of his chest as he takes one step closer to Steve, his hands sliding up Steve’s arms to fall on his shoulders. He can feel Steve takes a deep breath, their chests touching, and his hands find their way to Bucky’s hips.

Bucky doesn’t kiss him, not at first. Instead he nuzzles his nose against Steve’s, smiling at the soft little sound Steve makes at the touch. He places a kiss to Steve forehead, then one to the tip of his nose, then one to his chin.

Steve stands still, hands clutching at Bucky’s hip, so tight it might bruise. Bucky revels in it as he nuzzles Steve’s cheek, and then finally closes the distance between them, catching Steve’s lips in a kiss.

The kiss that is nothing more than a brush of lips, soft and gentle and tentative, just testing the waters. Bucky pulls back, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed, but doesn’t get far before Steve is leaning in for a kiss of his own.

Bucky cups Steve’s face between his hands, thumbs brushing Steve’s cheeks. They trade sweet small little kisses, getting lost in each other, over and over and over again. Steve’s arms wrap themselves around Bucky’s waist, holding him impossibly close, and Bucky sighs into it, smiling against Steve’s mouth.

When he starts smiling, Steve does too, and at the end of it there’s more laughing than kissing going on. They rest their foreheads together and just look at each other, big dumb smiles on their faces.

“Hi,” Bucky whispers, giddy.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, smiling so wide his cheeks must hurt.

“Wow.”

Bucky startles and looks at Becca and his Grandma, totally forgetting they weren’t alone for a second. He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, but he doesn’t let go of Steve. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to, even if he tried.

Steve seems to be on the same page, as he only tightens his hold on Bucky. “Yes?”

Becca surprises them when she blinks, and then breaks into the biggest smile Bucky’s ever seen from her, her eyes shining. “You guys really are in love.”

Behind her, Grandma smirks and says, “Yes, they are.”

 

**

 

“We’re really doing this, then?”

Bucky is lying on his childhood bed, Steve by his side, their legs tangled together. They haven’t let go of each other since the mistletoe kiss, stumbling past Grandma and Becca so they could disappear into Bucky’s room.

Bucky’s lips are still tingling after the _amazing_ makeout session they just had, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss Steve again, slow and deep and like he has all the time in the world. Steve kisses him back just as sweet, moaning softly as he opens up for Bucky, his hands tangling through Bucky’s hair.

“Yes,” Steve gasps, tilting his head back as Bucky mouths at his jaw and neck, pulling at the collar of Steve’s sweater so he can suck a mark into his collarbone. “I mean, if you want to.”

Bucky drops a small kiss to Steve’s throat before he pulls back, propping himself up on his forearms so he can look down at Steve, who is looking all kinds of flushed and dazed. It’s a goddamn Christmas miracle, Bucky thinks, that he and Steve are _finally_ here.

“I love you,” Bucky says, unable to contain the words any longer. “I’m head over heels in love with you.”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes out, hands slipping from Bucky’s hair so he can cup Bucky’s cheeks and pull him close, their foreheads touching. Bucky can feel Steve’s engagement ring against his cheek, and the knowledge makes his heart soar. “I love you, too.”

Bucky laughs a wet laugh, sniffling a little, and brushes their lips together. “I kind of guessed?”

“You— _what_? When?”

“You did propose to me,” Bucky points out, moving so he’s lying on his side, tugging at Steve until they’re facing each other.

Steve’s eyes widen for a second before he closes then again, groaning and trying to hide his face under the pillow. Bucky laughs and hugs him, letting Steve bury his face against his chest. Bucky is pretty sure he’s going to die from happiness at any moment now.

“And you still let us go through all of _this_?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and then kisses the top of Steve’s head. “I had to be sure that you felt the same. I didn’t want to risk it, risk _us_ , if you didn’t.”

“I do,” Steve tells him, lifting his head and kissing the dent on Bucky’s chin. “I do feel the same.”

“That’s good, otherwise this would be kind of awkward.” Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead, and Steve rolls his eyes, shifting in Bucky’s arms so they’re sharing a pillow, their noses touching. “I was sure when you— when we were decorating the tree. That story about my birthday? That’s when I knew.”

Steve smiles a little at him, this time with no lingering sadness in his eyes. “That was really my plan, you know. But things didn’t turn out the way I hoped.”

“I’m sorry I was an idiot,” Bucky murmurs, hugging Steve closer. “We could’ve been doing this for almost a year now.”

“It happened when it was supposed to happen,” Steve tells him, way more optimistic than Bucky.

That must really mean he’s in love, Bucky thinks, because Steve isn’t known for his happy outlook on life.

“The right time, huh?” Bucky asks, closing the distance between them so he can steal another sweet kiss.

“The right time,” Steve agrees, sighing. “That’s kind of why I, you know…”

“What?”

“Suggested the whole—”

“Oh my god, we both deserve each other,” Buck laments, although he’s smiling, big and bright.

“I wanted to be sure, too,” Steve explains. “I mean, you _did_ say yes, but I wanted—”

“To know it was real,” Bucky finishes for him.

“Yeah.” Steve nuzzles his nose against Bucky’s. “And it is.”

Speaking of real,” Bucky stars, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, “what do you want to do?”

“About what?”

Bucky catches Steve’s hand in his, bringing it up between them. He presses a kiss to Steve’s knuckle, lip barely grazing the golden band on Steve’s ring finger.

“Oh, that,” Steve says, eyes a little glazed over.

Bucky smirks to himself, smug. “Yes, that.”

Steve licks his lips, curling his fingers around Bucky’s hand. “I don’t know. I think it’s too soon for the whole marriage thing, but…”

“It doesn’t feel right to break off the engagement, huh?” Bucky adds, because that’s pretty much how he feels.

He already knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with Steve. As much of a mess as all of this was, it was what brought them together, and Bucky doesn’t want it to end.

“Yeah.” Steve tilts his head for a kiss, quick and sweet. “I do want to marry you, though.”

Bucky’s grin takes up his whole face, and he knows he must look like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. “I want to marry you, too.”

“Yay,” Steve whispers, and then giggles to himself.

The sound is adorable and all Bucky can do is lean in and kiss him again, once, twice, three times.

“We could have a long engagement,” Bucky suggests, letting go of Steve’s hand so he can have maximum cuddles opportunities. “That’ll give us time.”

“To date?” Steve teases, nipping at Bucky’s bottom lip.

“Amongst other things,” Bucky replies, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve laughs, the sound like music to Bucky’s ears. “I like that.”

“Yeah? So long engagement it is.”

“And dates. I’m taking you on one as soon as we had back home.”

“Sounds perfect,” Bucky answers, because it does. It is everything he’s ever wanted, right here, in his arms. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Steve says, smiling, and then pulls him into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable on tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/post/154985514256/the-right-time-by-wearingtearing-164k-words) :D


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